


So Painfully Obvious

by compos_dementis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, F/M, Gen, Past Drug Use, Pre-A Study in Pink, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's first case with the Yard. Sally Donovan is bright, outspoken, and has a good grasp of common sense. He learns to appreciate this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Painfully Obvious

Sally Donovan is bright, outspoken, and has a good grasp of common sense. Sherlock is learning to appreciate this as the case goes on. It’s interesting, far more interesting than the burlgaries he’d been investigating on his own; four kidnapped children, taken from crowded places in broad daylight, and it’s almost enough to make him forget about the post-acute withdrawal symptoms still storming about his body. (His heroin addiction is the only reason he's really here in the first place, honestly. A deal struck with Lestrade to utilize Sherlock's mind and keep him clean and, most importantly, out of a jail cell.)

Donovan doesn’t find the case amusing, and gives him odd looks when he expresses delight at discovering a new clue. The others — Anderson, and the one with the beard, and the other one with the bitten nails — they all voice their opinions about him very early on. Even though they at first tried to make nice, they seem intimidated and even frightened at how easily Sherlock is undoing their criminal’s work. A smallish woman with blonde hair is the first to resort to name-calling by openly asking why they invited a _freak_ along to help — not a very clever nickname, all things considered, and one he's grown accustomed to over years and years of hearing it. Donovan, shockingly, stands up for him.

"He’s getting the job done. That’s all we need. Don’t you have photographs to take?"

Sherlock doesn’t know what to do about this. Nobody’s ever really bothered to defend him before. There had been Victor, of course, but Victor was different. Donovan is a stranger. She has no reason to trust him, especially given that this is his first time ever working jointly with the Yard.

When the case is over, and he’s still riding an adrenalin high, he decides to approach her. He’s been hanging around her for most of the case anyway, almost using her as a buffer between his own mind and the world outside of it.

"Constable Donovan—"

"You can call me Sally, y’know. Won’t kill ya." There’s a slight smile on her lips even though she isn’t quite looking at him. He’s pulled her aside, away from the group of her peers, and she’s having trouble looking him in the eye.

"—Sally," he corrects, testing the name on his tongue and deciding that he likes it. "What you did, back there, for me. It was—" The words stick in his throat. He wants to fidget, and forces himself to stand still. "Thank you."

Sally’s expression softens, and she shrugs a shoulder. “‘S nothing, really. They’re idiots, the lot of them.”

"Not you, though." He thinks that’s appropriate. He does admire her confidence even when she’s fairly low rank; it makes it easier for him to work.

Her eyes flick up to meet his, and all the nonchalance of the conversation seems to vanish.

"Listen," she says. "You wanna grab a drink? There’s a pub down the road. I could use one."

He agrees immediately.

\- - - 

She’s much warmer in a semi-private setting than in the company of her boss. She talks a lot, she laughs loudly; she’s had a bit to drink and he hasn’t really touched his own glass. He’s not really as appreciative as she is of the dark bar, and not long into their chat, he asks if they can leave. She says, yes, of course they can, can he drive her home?

He does. When he gets out of her and walks her to the door, he says a curt goodbye and begins walking away. Sally’s hand catches on his wrist. 

"We should do this again sometime," she says, her voice a slight slur, and then she’s leaning up to—

No no no no no. He very swiftly steps back and pulls his wrist from her grasp, leaving her looking confused. His heart pounds, though not out of any sort of interest in her — it’s nerves and slight disgust, fluttering around in his stomach.

"I’m not—" He can’t speak. His words almost shake but he forces his voice to steady. "I’m not interested in any of that, I’m afraid. And using me as rebound after your last relationship is rather tacky, considering you just broke up a little over a week ago." She opens her mouth, but he talks over her.

"The CDs in the car. Not the sort of music we listened to on the way to the bar, so they must be his. His watch was in the cup-holder, as well; rather expensive, not something he’d want to part with for very long. Obvious, really. That’s the trouble with you lot, you’re all— you’re all so painfully _obvious_.”

Not obvious enough, apparently. He internally berates himself for not seeing it sooner. So desperate for a friend, to have someone on his side; he’d overlooked every little clue.

She doesn’t slap him, though he would probably deserve that. She does look fiercely angry, though, as she huffs out a breath. “Go on, then. If you’re so above the rest of us, why bother talking to me at all? Get out of here.”

It takes an embarrassingly long time for her to work open her front door and leave him in the darkness. He catches a cab back to his flat alone, and thinks about heroin.

The next time Lestrade calls Sherlock in for help with a case, Sally Donovan is the first to call him a freak.


End file.
